


It's Not The Waking, It's The Call

by cookieface678



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Demon!Aziraphale, M/M, angel!Crowley, jesus and adam were switched, swap au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 00:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20349277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookieface678/pseuds/cookieface678
Summary: One of the first signs of Armageddon was the second coming of Christ, but not how you were told how it happened.





	It's Not The Waking, It's The Call

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the GOFanExchange event for @/serxarisa on twitter! The prompt was Demon!Aziraphale and Angel!Crowley. Hope yall enjoy this oneshot!

A white Bentley had skidded around the corner of a partially woodland area. It was pristine, kept in shape and almost blinding. Despite all the mud and gunk it could've taken up on the way to here, it stayed the way it did. Probably by a miracle.

Inside said Bentley was a man, bright red flowing hair and pink tinted sunglasses that fit his frame. He held a scowl on his features.

He was here, begrudgingly. On the mission to deliver what could be the start of Armageddon.

In the glowing caramel-colored basket was The Savior, the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.

The AntiAdam.

Obviously he didn't want to be here. Obviously he didn't want to be the one to start it all. The Advocate.

"Why me?" The angel grumbled under his breath.

* * *

He was sipping his cherry wine, lounging on his velvet couch while Golden Girls was on. It was a fine Saturday night.

As Rose was about to blurt on of her stories, the tv had changed. It had an all too familiar jingle that he loathed to hear.

Heaven had something to announce.

Blasted these angels, he shouldn't have introduced television to them.

"Evening, Raphael."

"Evening, Archangel Barachiel. Wassup?"

"We've got a job for you."

"Obviously." The red-haired angel replied.

Ever since the first former Head of The Angels had Fallen, Barachiel had been elected as the new one. Although in terms of angel hierarchy, they were still a Cherubim. When compared to Raphael, who maintained his role as the Seraphim, even though he was tasked on Earth. That meant, even so, Raphael will always be above them.

They tolerated each other at best. But they were on good terms nonetheless.

"Right so,"

A basket with a blue ribbon appeared in front of Raphael and landed squarely on his lap.

"W-what's this?" Raphael gaped at the basket. It certainly had some weight to it. He could _feel_ that it was definitely alive.

"The reincarnation of Christ. You are tasked to land him on a doorstep of a local church in a small rural town, don't matter what town, so as long as it is small and rural,"

The red-haired angel just sat there gaping at the basket. None of the orders given by him was registering into him.

"Wait a minute, this isn't my department!" The angel interrupted.

This wasn't his scene! He wasn't supposed to be tasked to deliver The Savior, the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. This was.... someone else's job!

Barachiel didn't look pleased being interrupted.

"I was getting to that part. Ever since Gabriel had been...let go, we had to do a lot of restructuring in Head Office."

Oh. Right. He remembered. He wasn't there to witness the trial, but he had heard everything from Azazel to know the gist of it.

* * *

  
"I mean, he was a right bastard, always sitting on his high horse and what not. He was Archangel after all, but don't it seem a bit too much?" Raphael ( more known as Ralph by Azazel) spoke.

He was sipping his wine on one of Azazel's antique couches. It had a tacky tartan splash to it.

A Regular Sunday Night with your hereditary enemy.

"Oh I wouldn't know about that, my dear. Has Heaven changed since I left?" The demon asked, sitting in his own antique chair.

He wore a dark open-vested jacket suit with red bowtie to match. Pale blue eyes shone in curiosity. In his hand, an ashen colored teacup with a saucer to match.

"Don't think so."

"Then it was just as the same as when I Fell then. He must've done something wrong. Bit more off than he can chew. Then lands himself straight into molten sulphur." The pale-haired demon sipped his wine casually. If you take a closer look, his roots look darker.

"Hm." Ralph stared into his glass. His thoughts had swirled like the wine in the wineglass.

Is it really though?

* * *

"Archangel Raphael, are you listening to me?" Barachiel snapped.

Ralph was shook from his thoughts, recalling previous events.

No, he wasn't.

"Yes Barachiel."

"Then what were the orders?" the angel glowered at the other.

"Uhh..."

Ralph stared at the basket. And back to the Archangel. And looked over to his nursery of plants. And back to Barachiel.

"I... have to deliver this child to a church?" He tried.

"To a church in the a small, rural town, Raphael." The Head of The Angels sighed.

"In case you forget, we'll drop the information inside the basket and you can just refer to it anytime,"

A small yellow leaflet appeared and it slowly hovered down, straight into the basket.

"Now get on with it."

The tv shut off. And silence started to fill the room.

"Well, this wasn't what I expected."

Suddenly the basket started to wail. Raphael sighed as he flipped through the leaflet.

So much for a nice relaxing Saturday night.


End file.
